


Trying Our Best

by TheImpalaClub



Series: amputee Peter Parker is an amazing thing [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alcoholic Tony Stark, Amputation, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Dancing, Everyone Is Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prosthetics, Protective Tony Stark, Protectiveness, Sorry Not Sorry, Wheelchairs, Who am I, because if she was straight I couldn't date her whoops, especially mj, everyone is sad, maybe not, mostly angst, possibly, protective may parker, so many, that warehouse scene, this is angsty as hell just want to be prepared for the worst, what are tags, what is life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-12-10 13:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11692635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheImpalaClub/pseuds/TheImpalaClub
Summary: Peter can't lift the warehouse wall off of himself. Some construction workers find him the next day, and it's bad, to say the least. He's got a lot to get used to. Tony has a lot to blame himself for. May has a lot of people to try and support. Everyone has a lot of feelings and no one talks about them because this is Marvel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHH THIS HC GETS ME BEYOND HYPED please enjoy

Peter pushed on the slab of concrete holding him down. It still didn't budge. If he'd had the suit Tony gave him, he would already be out of the collapsed warehouse. But he didn't. Because he'd screwed up. God, he'd thought that had been bad. Now, though, the ferry felt like one of the best moments of his life.  
"Come on Peter!" he said, straining against the concrete until black dots appeared in his vision. "Come on Spider Man!"  
The wall didn't move. He let out a sob and dropped his hands. No wonder no one thought he could be an Avenger. He couldn't. And now he was going to die here, and someone would find him and there would be headlines about Spider Man being dead and hardly anyone would care because all he'd ever really done was help some people with directions.  
“You can do this,” he told himself between ragged breaths. He pushed his hands- which were dripping with blood, he hadn’t noticed before- back against the wall and tried one last time. It didn’t even shift, and it looked like it was giving him a sadistic smile. Despite the cuts already on them, Peter slammed his hands against the concrete in frustration. So he was going to have to find someone to move it for him. “HELP!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “SOMEONE HELP ME! I’M…” he took a few more breaths. The slab was pushing on his ribcage. “I’M STUCK.” There was an audible crack that felt like it came from his ribs. Now he couldn’t even call for help without hurting himself more. He started crying harder. With the tears, and the water from burst pipes in his face, it was beginning to look like he was underwater. If felt like he was underwater, too, with the pressure on his lungs. He really was going to die, wasn’t he? “Shit,” he whispered. He was never gonna see Ned again, or MJ, or Liz, or May, or Tony Stark, or Happy, or anyone. Everything he was planning on doing, everything he could have done that he wasn’t planning on. Gone. “Help-” he choked out again. No one answered.  
What would May do? All either of them had was each other. In a few minutes, the pain and the lack of air were going to win, just like Vulture was going to win. May couldn’t handle being alone like that. But there was nothing Peter could do. All pushing against the concrete did was hurt his hands and shoulders more, and all struggling did was waste energy and cause more pain. And jesus, there was already enough of that. At this point he was almost looking forward to when he passed out. Every tiny movement sent fire crawling up his spine. His legs were crushed, and so were his ribs. Even if he got out, there was no way he could keep up the chase. It would be a miracle if he even got to a phone to call 9-1-1.  
If he still had the suit. If he hadn’t been so stupid, and turned off all the communication, and then lost it altogether, then he could live. But no. God, he’d been so, so, stupid.  
The spots in his vision got wider, and Peter realized he was going to black out. This was it. The last thing he'd ever done was blow up a building and let the bad guy go. And no one would even know…  
***  
Should Tony be sleeping? Probably. Were there better things to do in his workshop? Hell yeah, there were. He bent further over his desk, focused on the parts on the surface. His suit needed repairs, there were new weapons that needed to be developed, and he had to have something cool enough to talk about at the next press conference Pepper set up. Nothing was really holding his focus at the moment, though. He kept thinking about Peter, and how he definitely should have done things differently last time he’d seen the kid. What if he went out and did something that was going to get him killed now? Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the suit. That probably wouldn’t stop him, and now he had less protection.  
Tony’s coffee mug was empty, but refilling it involved leaving his desk, and walking all the way to the coffee pot on the other side of the room, and he wasn’t in the mood to get one of the robots to do it. They always fucked it up, anyway. He sighed and pushed the mug away. He’d probably have to get up soon anyway. He pulled a few more blueprints up onto the screen in front of him and tried to concentrate on the task at hand instead of what some fifteen-year-old was doing. But just when he was getting back into it, the phone rang.  
“Friday, who is that?” he asked with a groan.  
“It’s May Parker.”  
“Oh, christ. Okay, answer it.”  
The May on the other end of the phone was not the May Tony was used to talking to. It sounded like she’d been crying, or was still crying. And she was mad. “Tony Stark, you need to get your ass over to this hospital right now.”  
Tony’s heart skipped several beats. “What’s going on?”  
“It’s Peter. They found him a few hours ago…”  
“Is he alive?”  
“Barely. He was in the middle of a blown-up warehouse. They’re saying they might have to- I mean- you need to get over here. Now.”  
“Shit. Okay. Um… Friday, find her coordinates.” Tony abandoned his work and coffee and raced towards the door, his suit flying onto him as he ran. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”  
He knew something like this was bound to happen. And he’d let it. God, that was just like him, wasn’t it? If he hadn’t taken the suit, Peter would probably be fine now. Who knows what had happened to him. Whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t good. The lights of the hospital appeared below him, and he sped towards the ground. This was his fault; he was just hoping he wasn’t going to have to feel too guilty.  
May was pacing the ER waiting room, a tear-stained glare fixed on her face. The glare only got harder when she noticed Tony walking in.  
“Tell me what’s happening,” he said urgently, glancing down the hallway to the operating rooms.  
“They’ve just finished surgery. They’re going to move him soon.”  
“Thanks for the specifics. Spare me some details, please. Surgery for what?”  
May bit her lip and blinked a few times. “He’s got five broken ribs and a punctured lung,” she told the ceiling, refusing to meet Tony’s earnest gaze. “And his legs…”  
“They had to amputate, didn’t they?” His stomach dropped. This was his fault. It really was. “Jesus, May, I’m sorry.”  
“You should be,” she replied venomously. “I can’t believe you’ve been putting him in danger like this. Did you really take him to go fight Captain Fucking America?”  
“That was… this is…”  
“He’s fifteen. Superpowers or not.”  
Tony nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Before he could say anything else, make up another excuse, a gurney burst out of the operating room doors. He and May both froze as it wheeled by- and it wasn’t Peter. May walked over to the nearest chair and sat down, putting her head in her hands. It was going to be a long wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for the responses I've been getting! I'm so glad people like this

There was a heart monitor, Peter could hear that. And it smelled like antiseptic. So, hospital. Why was he in a hospital? He cracked his eyes open and immediately closed them- too bright. Too much. Maybe he could go back to sleep.   
There were voices, too. Well, one voice. Aunt May's.   
"...and I thought he was dead, Tony. The ER people, they- he could have been dead. And it would have been your fucking fault. Do you know how scared I was? I thought he was going to a school dance, and then spending the night with his friends, and then this morning I get a call saying someone found him in the middle of a collapsed warehouse! That kid- shit, he’s just a kid, Tony- he’s all I’ve got. I can’t lose him. And I really, really can’t lose him like this. How could you have helped him do all this? How could you have been so... so- don't try to apologize!"  
"I was going to say you're right." Someone else's voice. Mr. Stark's, Peter realized. "There's so much that I- this is my fault."  
"Damn right, it is."  
"Can I just-"  
"No, you can't see him."  
"Right. Yeah, of course. Just send me the hospital bill. Please. And if he needs anything-”  
“You’re not his father, Tony Stark. Leave us alone.”  
A door opened. Footsteps sounded towards Peter. He opened his eyes, ignoring the searing pain from the light and focusing on the blurry image of May walking towards him.   
"Peter. You're awake," she said quietly. "The doctors said it would be a few more hours, but I guess you've always made quick recoveries. Oh, god. Where's the tissue? Sorry, I really shouldn’t be crying this much, it’s going to be okay."  
"What happened?" Peter asked in a scratchy voice.   
"You don't remember?"  
He shook his head. "Can I talk to Mr. Stark?"  
May's expression hardened. "No."  
"I just want to tell him something." Peter sat up (which caused the head rush of his life) and started to get out of the bed. When he tried to, though, nothing happened. "Why can't I move my-" he tossed the blankets off. "Oh my god."   
His legs were gone.   
There were a few inches, and then just... bandages. And then nothing. "Oh my god," he said again, a lot louder. He looked up at May. "Oh my god oh my god ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmy-" he broke off and started crying. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.   
"Shhhh, it's gonna be okay." May sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him into a hug.   
Peter buried his face in her shoulder. "I don't have legs," he choked out.   
"I know."  
"I'm Spiderman."  
"I...know. Tony told me."  
"I'm not anymore."  
"We'll figure it out. We always do, right?"  
Peter nodded into May's shirt. Slowly, a list of all the things he wouldn't be able to do started forming. Marching band. Walking on stage for a decathalon. Walking at all. Being an Avenger. Because he had to go after something he knew he couldn’t win against. “I wanna go home,” he mumbled, and he didn’t really know why. He didn’t care where he was. The only thing he wanted was to never have tried to stop Vulture, never to have taken Stark’s offer, never to have become a superhero in the first place. If he could do that, than he wouldn’t end up like this.   
“You can’t go home yet. I’m sorry, kid. If there’s anything you want from the apartment, I can go get it later, yeah?”  
Peter nodded again. If he closed his eyes, it seemed like everything was the same as it had been. The lights weren’t as bright, too. So he did, and soon he felt himself drifting back to sleep. Vaguely he was aware of May laying him back down on the bed and pulling the blankets back up. When he woke up, he thought, he’d be back in the apartment, and the alarm would be going off for school, and homecoming would be in twelve hours, and he’d go to Liz’s house and her dad wouldn’t be a supervillain, and so he’d be able to stay at homecoming, and he’d sit down at lunch with Ned and tell him about the nightmare he’d had the night before.  
***  
Fucking Steve Rogers, starting this feud. Fucking warehouses and their being too heavy. Fucking Friday, not letting Tony use the suit when his blood alcohol levels were this high. The last time he could remember being this drunk was when he was a teenager. Which was saying something, given the amount of time he’d spent drunk in his life. He deleted another blueprint and started again. Prosthetics were harder to make than he’d been expecting, but he’d get it right eventually. He had to.  
Someone came into the workshop. “Fuck off,” he shouted.  
“I will not.” Pepper crossed the room, taking account of the empty bottles throughout. “Your alcohol tolerance never ceases to amaze me.”  
“Yeah? Well, there’s one thing I’m good at. Building robots, getting drunk, and ruining lives. The great Tony Stark.” He deleted the new file. “I should have been there. Not him.”  
Pepper put her hands on his shoulders and pulled the chair away from his desk. “You haven’t slept in three days.”  
“May is right. I never should have talked to him in the first place. He was fine until I showed up. And then all of a sudden he’s getting his ass kicked every other day.”  
Pepper made a noncommittal noise and set a bottle of painkillers on the desk.  
“All I can think about is that fucking kid, under that wall. And I could have stopped it from happening. He could be fine now.”  
Pepper nodded and took three painkillers out of the bottle, leaving those on the desk instead. “If you don’t go to sleep soon, I’ll shut off the power. You have a phone interview tomorrow afternoon.”  
Tony watched her leave and start back up the stairs. “Thanks,” he called when she was almost out of view.  
“The power. I’ll shut it off.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heck people are really liking my legless boy here's another chapter my dudes thanks for reading

The doctor and May were talking. Peter was pretending that he was listening and not thinking about how much his ribs hurt and how much his legs should be hurting. Overnight, his room had filled with flowers and cards. There had been a pretty big bouquet on the table by his bed, with an envelope attached and addressed in Stark’s handwriting, but May had seen it and thrown it out. Peter couldn’t argue with that.  
“We can start physical therapy as soon as his lungs and ribs heal a little more, but that takes six weeks, minimum. And prosthetics take around six months to be made. Until all that happens, he’s just going to have to stay in bed or use a wheelchair. And I’d recommend the first one.”  
“I have to go back to school,” Peter said, more to remind them he was there than to actually add anything.  
“You can, in about two weeks. And you’ll need an oxygen tank. If you’d like, I’m sure your school could arrange it so you could attend through Skype, or something.”  
“I don’t think-”  
“I’ll talk to your teachers,” May interjected.   
“Right. That’s a good idea. You had a minor concussion, but you should be able to do school work in a day or two. I do think Peter should see one of the counselors on staff as soon as possible.”  
“What? Why?” Peter asked. “I don’t...I’m okay.”  
“Losing a limb- especially in the way that you did- can be very traumatic. We want to be sure you have a good amount of emotional support. You should call your friends soon.”  
“Yeah. I will.” The thought of having to call everyone on the decathlon team and explain what had happened made him want to throw up. Or maybe that was just the medication. It had been two days since homecoming, and he still hadn’t told any of them anything. They were probably wondering why he wasn’t in school. He’d have to tell them the truth. And they’d all come visit him, and it would be awkward as hell, and he didn’t know how they’d react. Well, he was pretty sure Ned would ask something along the lines of “can you still be Spider Man with no legs.” But other than that, not a clue. It was going to be a long two weeks.  
“Well, we’ll discuss the options again in a week or two, after you’ve had some time to recover, okay?”  
It had to be okay regardless of whether or not Peter thought it was. There wasn’t anything he could do. So he nodded, and watched the doctor pick up her clipboard and leave. And he tried not to think about the fact that a month ago a week ago four days ago he could have followed her.  
“You really should call someone. At least Ned, he’s probably worried sick about you.” May stood up and handed him her phone.  
“I don’t want to do this,” Peter said, staring at the phone in his bandaged hands.  
“Well, I didn’t want to wake up at four in the morning with a call that someone had found you while they were- sorry. I mean that we all have to do things that we don’t want to. And I can’t do it for you. He’s not my best friend.” She opened the door and gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s just a phone call.”  
“Right.” After a few more minutes of silently staring, he slowly unlocked the phone and found Ned’s contact. It only rang twice, even though it was in the middle of third period. “Hey,” he started, desperately searching for a way to finish the sentence.  
“Dude, where are you? What happened at the dance? Did you defeat that guy? Wait- did you get captured, or something? Is that why you’re not in school?”  
A smile twitched across Peter’s face. “No. I’m at the hospital.”  
“Oh. Is it for an Avengers thing?”  
“I’m at the hospital because I got hurt.”  
There was silence on the other end.  
“Ned?”  
“Are you...okay?” he asked, the words echoing through the phone.  
“I’m alive,” Peter replied. “Sort of.”  
“I’m leaving at lunch to come visit.”  
“Okay. You should know-”  
“What is it?”  
Peter sighed and stared at the blankets on his bed, at how much had nothing underneath them. “Nevermind. It’s fine. I’ll see you later.”  
“Do you want me to tell everyone else?”  
“You can. I’m calling MJ next.”  
“Okay. I’ll… see you later, I guess.”  
Ned was the one who hung up. He was running into the class to tell literally every other person at school what he’d heard, Peter guessed. That made him smile a little more. He called MJ, who almost never picked up her phone anyway, but it was worth a shot. She answered even sooner than Ned had.  
“Hey, Peter, I- jesus christ, Ned, calm down, it’s him- Ned says you’re at the hospital.” In the background, Peter could hear him yelling.  
“Yeah. I am.”  
“What happened?”  
Peter took a deep breath. “I’m Spider Man.”  
MJ laughed. “Yeah. I know. Thought you were never gonna come clean.”  
“What?”  
“Every time you go missing, he does something badass that everyone ends up hearing about. Also, Ned doesn’t exactly whisper when he’s talking to you about it. Seriously, I’m surprised the entire school doesn’t know by now. But what happened?”  
“I kind of got my ass kicked by a building.”  
“That sounds bad. I’m visiting with Ned. And I’m pretty sure the rest of the team is, too.”  
“Cool. I- is Ned still there?”  
“No.”  
“Okay.” Peter took a deep breath. “They had to amputate my legs.”  
MJ didn't say anything. In fact, it was beginning to seem like she never was.   
“Are you still there?”  
“Yeah. I… I'm sorry.”  
“I’ll live,” he said, trying to sound like he could brush it off. If he couldn't even tell one of his friends, how was he going to go back to school? Everyone was going to be asking him questions.   
“Sorry, this teacher in the hall keeps sending me death glares. I should go back to class.”  
“See you at lunch.”  
“See you.” He hung up and tossed the phone towards the end of his bed. God, what was he going to say to them?  
***  
“I just want to talk to him. Just for a few minutes.”  
“I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, but we've been asked not to allow you to see him.” The nurse turned back to his computer.   
“One minute. Sixty seconds. Please, that's all I'm asking.”  
The nurse glanced back up and firmly shook his head. “I'm not telling you his room number.”  
Tony gave him a small nod and spun on his heel. He walked out of the building until he was a good distance away from the front doors, then turned and punched the outside wall as hard as he could. It didn't do anything but hurt. He wanted to scream. The image of Peter stuck in that warehouse wasn't going to leave him alone until he fixed things. And even then, he doubted it would go away. Not like he wasn't used to that kind of thing, by now. File it under reasons not to sleep tonight and move on. Dazed from the pain in his hand and the guilt about the situation, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and dialed May’s number. There had to be some way he could convince her.   
It rang. And rang and kept ringing until finally someone picked up the other end.   
“Thank god. May, you have to let me talk to him. Please.”   
“Mr. Stark?”  
It wasn't May.   
“Peter?”  
“Yeah, May left her phone in my room. Why are you calling?”  
“I just wanted to, I don't even know. Fuck. I'm so, so sorry, because I should have listened, and I should have been there. And now you're… and it's my fault. Fuck. I'm sorry.”  
“Are you drunk?”  
“Probably. Usually.”  
“D-don't blame yourself so much. I shouldn't have gone after him. I didn't listen.”  
“If I hadn't gotten you into all this-” he broke off and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the sidewalk. “I'm going to fix this.”  
“You don't have to.”  
“Yes, I do. And I will.”  
“Alright. My friends are here. Are you doing okay?”  
“Me?” Tony let out a short laugh. “I'm fine. Completely fine. I'm sorry. I'll go.” He hung up and leaned his head back against the cold concrete. He'd done it again, hadn't he? Ruined someone's life while he walked away unscathed. The list of his ‘victims’ got longer every day. With every name that was added, Tony's resolve to stay clean slipped more and more. “I'm fine,” he said again. Where was the nearest liquor store?


	4. Chapter 4

Ned sat at the foot of the bed, flipping through headlines about Spider Man turning up half-dead on his phone. MJ had pulled up a chair and had her feet on the bed, silently reading the clipboard that had been at the foot of Peter’s bed. No one else had actually come, but it was fine. He didn’t really want anyone else there. Two people already felt like a little too much.  
“Damn,” MJ said after a few minutes. “That building really did kick your ass.”  
Peter smirked. “Kicked might be the wrong term.”  
Ned put down his phone. “What are you gonna do? Could you still be an Avenger?”  
“I don’t know. Probably not. I mean, it’d be pretty hard.”  
“Maybe you could get prosthetics, like, built into your suit. That would be cool.”  
“Can we not talk about that?” Ever since he’d woken up, all anyone would talk about were his ‘options.’ If he had to hear one more description of just how limited they were, he was going to scream. “H-how was homecoming?”  
“It was okay. Liz cried a lot.” MJ tossed the clipboard away.  
“Shit. I should talk to her.”  
“Better do it soon- she’s moving to Oregon next week.”  
“What?”  
Ned nodded. “Uh-huh. With all the stuff going around about her dad, her mom decided they couldn’t stay in New York.”  
“I really need to talk to her.”  
“We’ll tell her to come visit you,” MJ offered.   
Peter shrugged. “It’d be better if we just talked on the phone, I think.” It wasn’t like he was to embarrassed to see her in person. It would just be infinitely harder. Shit. May had just taught him how to dance, and now he couldn’t even stand. “Is she okay?”  
“Yeah, for a girl who got ditched by her date because he had to go stop her father from stealing Avengers’ property by using alien weapons, and has to move across the country in a week. Actually, she’s doing great, considering. Has Tony Stark said anything to you yet?”  
“Ned. Drop it with Tony Stark.” MJ rolled her eyes.  
“Um, yeah, he did. Like half an hour ago. It was...weird. He thinks it was his fault. Also I think he was drunk.”  
“Really?” Ned asked, eyes widening.  
“Yeah. I don’t know what was wrong with him. Can we change the subject?” He didn’t want to say more than he had to. Stark was not the kind of man who called people drunk. Or showed any emotion other than indifference. So clearly, the call wasn’t exactly something he could go telling everyone about. He owed that much to Mr. Stark.  
“When are you coming back?” MJ asked.  
“Uh, two weeks. But I’ll have to be in a wheelchair. And I’ll still have this.” Peter pointed to the breathing tube that snaked behind his ears.   
“Really? I thought those were just hospital things. Or, like, the Fault in Our Stars,” Ned said, earning another eye roll from MJ.  
“Usually, yeah. I gotta keep it on for like a month though. Because, you know, I actually can barely breathe right now.”  
“Oh, jesus, really?”  
“I screwed up my lungs,” Peter answered, which was easier than saying he punctured both his lungs with his ribs and then passed out for six hours and probably shouldn’t be alive at the moment, but somehow he was. It was also easier than saying yes, really, if he concentrated on it, he literally couldn’t breathe normally, and even if he could, it would hurt his ribs too much, and he shouldn’t be alive, but here he was.  
“That sucks. Wanna watch a movie?”  
Thank god, Peter thought, and nodded enthusiastically at MJ’s idea. Because at least for two hours, he wouldn’t have to think about where he was.  
***  
Tony spent the next two weeks in his basement. Which was nothing new. It felt worse this time, somehow. He kept working on the prosthetics design, bringing up old plans for Rhodey’s, looking through every other design he could find online, trying to make it the best thing he’d ever made. Finally, something was starting to come together. If he could just convince May to let him help, or find a way to do it without going through her, things would be better. He could maybe go outside. He could maybe get back to his normal- albeit still horrendous- sleeping schedule.   
Pepper’s heels clicked down the stairs, like they did every night. “Hey,” she called over the music he was blasting. “Do you want dinner?”  
“I’m good,” he yelled back.  
“Okay, well, you’ve been good for the past four days, every time I’ve tried to get you to eat something, and this is exactly why everyone is always so worried about you.”  
Tony turned off the music and spun in his chair to face her. “No need to worry.”  
“That’s not true. Come eat dinner.”  
“I’m busy.”  
“For god’s sake, Anthony, why is it so hard to get you to- not even take care of yourself- keep yourself alive, at least? I’m so sick of this. You have a deathwish, fine. So does everyone else I know. But save it for the next time you try and take on Steve and Bucky by yourself. Don’t starve to death.” She took a few steps into the room. “You’re coming upstairs with me.”  
He rolled his eyes and turned back to his work. “Are you going to count to three?”  
“No, but I’ll call Colonel Rhodes, and he’ll count to three for me.”  
Tony sighed and stood up, pushing past Pepper on his way to the stairs. “Don’t call Rhodey. He wants me to go to therapy.”  
“So does everyone who’s ever gotten to know you.”  
“Can’t see why. I’m fine.”  
He could feel Pepper rolling her eyes behind him.  
Eating made him feel marginally better, but he didn’t tell her that. Instead he walked back downstairs and returned to his work. He would call May in the morning. Which was only in a few hours. And he would convince her to let him help. And he would fix things. He had to. He had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow wow wow even more suffering I love this hc with all my heart


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bc I know people are probably wondering and I got a few comments, his legs got amputated about halfway up his thighs. it's slightly higher on the right leg but not by much. anyway, I keep writing crack and then I go back to this and it ends up being too happy, but enjoy!

Peter bolted upright in bed, sweat dripping down his back. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, which made him think he really was still trapped, that it hadn’t been just a nightmare, and it was too dark to see anything, and-  
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”  
May’s voice pulled him back to reality.  
“I...uh…” he glanced around the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. “I thought I was…”  
“You aren’t. You’re okay.”  
He nodded absently. “My legs hurt. They're not there, but they still hurt.”  
“Someone told me that’s a thing that happens. Do you want me to get a nurse?”  
“No, it’s… fine.”  
May nodded slightly and took a sip of coffee. “You should go back to sleep, then. You're going back to school tomorrow.”  
There was no way he could fall back asleep. He glanced at the clock- a little past four am. Early enough that he should be sleeping, late enough that it didn’t matter if he was awake or not. “Can I just stay up?” He asked. “I’ve done nothing but sleep for the past two weeks. And I have to be up by six, anyway.”  
“I want you well-rested. The first day back is going to be hard.”  
He clenched his jaw and stared at the door. “If I go back to sleep, I’ll just have another nightmare.”  
May sighed. “Fine. Let’s find something to watch. And tomorrow after school, you’re talking to the counselor.”  
“What am I supposed to tell him?” Peter asked, reaching for the TV remote. “I got crushed by a building because I have superpowers and I wanted to be an Avenger, and now I keep having nightmares about being back under the building?”  
“Well, that’s a good start. Possibly, leave the Avengers part out.”  
“Why? Mr. Stark has argued with every one of the hospital staff at this point. It’s not really a secret.”  
“They know Tony’s worried about you. They don’t know why. I just think it would be better if you tried… not talking about things you don’t need to, yeah?”  
“Okay.” Peter kept flipping through channels. Finally he picked something both of them could tolerate and let his mind wander.  
He shouldn’t be alive. That had been the first thought in his mind since he’d woken up. Powers or not, the wall he was pinned under should have shifted to an even worse position while the debris settled. Or he should have bled out. Or his lungs shouldn’t have worked for the six hours he spent passed out. No matter how many hypothetical scenarios he came up with, they all ended the same way. The construction workers finding a body instead of an unconscious kid. He refused to think about if he had been able to get out. So why was he sitting here, pretending to watch TV? Logistically, there could have been more room to breathe than he thought there was, the slab could have shifted while he was unconscious, but in a helpful way, the healing part of his powers had kept his lungs just intact enough to last a few more hours. But that didn’t change the original statement. People don’t get that many miracles at once. He knew he should be dead. And maybe that would have been for the best. Because now he had to go to school and deal with the questions, and the pity, and Flash’s comments. And then what? Assuming he wasn’t as stupid as he had been, Peter still had an entire life in front of him, and before he thought that was a pretty cool thing. But now, looking ahead, something had flipped all his plans like a railroad switch onto a weird parallel. It looked almost the same, but everything was less… stable. He knew what people were going to think. No one was going to want half a superhero for anything, not when the world was full of better ones.   
“Peter? You doing okay?”  
He snapped out of his trance and looked at May. “Yeah. Nervous about school, I guess.”  
“It’s going to be fine. Just like normal.”  
What even was normal, anymore?  
***  
Tony paced the length of his workshop for twenty minutes before he called May. Whatever he tried rehearsing, whatever he said, she wasn’t going to care. He shouldn’t even be calling her, but he had to at least try. Staring at the prosthetic plans displayed in front of him, Tony took a deep breath and pressed call. To his surprise- and fear- she picked up. On the first ring, no less.  
“What is it?” she asked. She didn’t sound angry anymore. She didn’t sound like anything. That wasn’t a good sign.  
“Let me help.” In his head, he had an entire presentation on all the reasons she should, but that was all he managed to get out.  
“You’re already covering the medical expenses- not that anyone asked you to. I don’t know what more you want to do.”  
“I have prosthetics. Well, plans for them. And I’ll build them.” He held his breath.  
“Is that what you’ve been doing the past two weeks?”  
Tony sat down in the nearest chair and stared at the mess the room had become- worse than usual, which was saying a lot. “Possibly.”  
“You don’t have to do this.”  
“Yeah. Yeah, I did. And regardless of whether or not you want me to help, I did something.” God, the press conference after Afghanistan had been easier than this.   
May didn’t say anything. Tony resisted the urge to talk over the silence. Then, after an excruciating minute: “Okay.”  
“What?”  
“Okay. This is… better than the options the doctors have been giving me. Don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t mean I forgive you.”  
“Of course not.” I wouldn’t forgive me either, he thought. Hell, I haven’t.  
“But you really care about him, don’t you?”  
“It’s… hard not to.”   
“We’re not going to need them right away. Peter’s barely started physical therapy. They said normal prosthetics take six to eight months. I’m gonna assume-”  
“I can have them by the end of the week if you need them, yeah.”  
“I’ll talk to the doctors and see when he’d be ready for them.”  
Tony smiled for what felt like the first time in two weeks. “Okay.”  
“I have to go to work. I mean… thanks,” May said softly.  
“No problem,” Tony replied. He hung up and pulled up Peter’s measurements from the spider suit, his smile turning into a borderline grin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet I almost cut half this chapter because I was like this is angst there shouldn't be this many roasts and dick jokes but then I decided everyone needs some comic relief

School was hell.  
Well, more hell than usual. The wheelchair accesses were in the most inconvenient places, which meant Peter was late to all his classes, which meant he had to navigate the chair between aisles of desks, which was like threading celery through a needle, while everyone was staring at him and pitying him. Also, everyone wanted to push him down the hallway. Which would have been nice if anyone knew where his classes were. People were noticing him, for once, but for all the wrong reasons. If this was what being popular was, he was glad he never had been.   
“Is it true you were stuck there for two days?” someone whispered over his shoulder during math.   
“No, it was only, like, eight hours.”  
“Oh.” they seemed almost disappointed. Peter felt like he was supposed to apologize for not having as horrific as a story as they wanted.  
“What did it feel like?” asked the girl who’d offered to help carry his books to class, and then ignored him when he’d said he didn’t need any assistance.  
“I mean. It hurt,” Peter mumbled, trying to focus on navigating the hallway and not the Thing that Happened to That Kid in My Bio Class, which is what everyone else seemed to be calling it.  
“Well, yeah, but it was scary, right? Being stuck there for so long.”  
“Mmmhmm. This is my class.”  
“Wait! Did you really fight Captain America?”  
Peter rolled his eyes. Every time another student asked that he got a little angrier at Mr. Stark. When they’d found him, with a shitty excuse for a suit and a mask a few feet away, someone had asked Tony if he was actually Spider Man, and he’d confirmed it. Although it was slightly better than everyone thinking that he got stuck under a building wearing Spider Man cosplay, it just invited even more questions. Like everyone in his school had turned into Ned overnight.  
“No,” Peter told the girl. He took his books back and rolled into the classroom. “It was a marketing stunt. I just do local stuff. Sorry.”   
Just when he thought he could settle into a regular English class, he found himself face to face with Flash. Perfect. He’d forgotten they shared this class. Peter narrowed his eyes and turned towards the table he shared with MJ and Ned. Unfortunately, it was hard to be inconspicuous in a wheelchair with an oxygen strapped to the back.  
“Look at that. Penis Parker, back from the dead. Glad to have you back, dude.”  
“Leave me alone,” Peter muttered.  
Flash smirked. “Can I ask you a question?”  
“No.”  
“What happened to your dick? I mean, there wasn’t much there to begin with, but now. What’s left?”  
Suddenly MJ was standing between Flash and a very embarassed Peter in all her badass glory. “What makes you think you have the right to ask something like that?”  
“The people wants to know.” Flash made a sweeping gesture at the rest of the classroom.  
“The people think you’re a menace and wants you deported.”  
“Whoa there, that’s harsh.”  
MJ sighed, blowing her hair out of your face. “You’re being insensitive and ableist. I can be as harsh as I want.”  
“Ableist? That’s a thing now? Jesus, that’s not even a real word.” Flash rolled his eyes, but didn’t move. Peter quietly went to his table. This was an MJ and Flash argument now, and it was best to give them space. Other people in the class had started to move their chairs away, too.  
“It’s in the Merriam Webster.”  
“So is the word selfie.”  
“So is the word useless. Actually, if you look that up, there’s a picture of you right next to the definition.”  
“BURN!” shouted Ned from next to Peter. “You just got destroyed, dude.”  
Flash gave Ned a blank stare, then turned back to MJ, like he couldn’t be bothered to look in his direction anymore. “That’s funny. I could say the same with you and the word gay.”  
“I can’t tell if I should be insulted at the gay joke or impressed that you figured it out. Maybe you do have some brain cells down there.”  
“Don’t you mean up there?”  
MJ grinned and spun on her heel to walk back to their table. “Sorry, didn’t quite catch that. Your head’s just a little too far up your ass.” She was punctuated by the bell ringing, and Flash was forced to go back to his seat on the other side of the class.  
“Thanks,” Peter said through his laughter.  
“No, thank you. It’s been a while since I’ve had the honor to murder Flash Thompson.”  
Ned cleared his throat slightly. “Back to his original question, though…”  
“Jesus christ, Ned. Nothing… happened to it.”  
Ned shrugged and held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. Peter buried his face in his hands and waited for the class to end.  
***  
Tony’s leg bounced uncontrollably under the table. He desperately wanted to get back to work, but he’d promised May he’d come to this meeting with the doctor. It seemed pointless to him, but for the first time since she’d called him two and a half weeks ago, she didn’t look like she wanted to punch him in the face, and she was going to let him talk to Peter when he got back from school, so he’d sit through as many goddamn meetings as she wanted him too.   
“Thank you for coming,” said the doctor, smiling blandly. “Peter’s doing extraordinarily well. I’m assuming that’s in part due to his… abilities.”  
“Yes, that’s part of his powers. Faster healing.” Tony returned the smile. May glanced at him, then down at her hands. He would have to talk to her soon. Even though she knew Peter was Spider Man now, she still didn’t really know what that meant. Peter had enough to worry about, so it was up to Tony to explain.  
“Usually patients have to wait between two and six months for prosthetic fittings, because the residual limb has to heal and because it takes a while for designers to make a prosthetic that suits the patient’s needs. These are highly unusual circumstances, though. To be honest, I’m not quite sure where to go from here. I’d suggest waiting another month. In the meantime I’d like for all three of you to meet with our rehab team once or twice. Talk about what’s going to happen after he has his prosthetics, Mr. Stark, show them your designs. That’s about it.”  
“Thank you,” May replied in monotone.  
“He’s a great kid, Ms. Parker.”  
“I know.”  
“Now, do either of you have any questions?”  
Tony glanced out one of the glass walls of the office; the room was halfway to being a fishbowl. He didn’t like it. “Has he been seeing a therapist?”  
“We’ve recommended it, but not yet, no. He doesn’t want to.”  
May nodded. “I’ll talk to him.”  
“If he doesn’t want to see someone at the hospital, I’ve got a list of people,” Tony offered. Maybe he’d finally be able to use that list Rhodey had sent him a few years ago. Or, at least, use it for something other than staring at for a long time every time he cleared out his files. He still didn’t really know why he’d never deleted it. Maybe he would, if Peter didn’t want it. And then he felt like laughing, because he was talking about getting this kid into counselling. He was a walking example of irony.  
“Is the van I drove him to school with… I mean…” May trailed off. “I’m sorry. Just processing everything.”  
The doctor’s smile warmed a little. “Those vans are from a rental company. You can use it for as long as you need- we’ll add it to the bill and transfer the payments. This is a lot of information, I know.”  
May nodded.  
“I have to go check on some patients. Feel free to ask me anything else later, okay?”  
“Thank you,” Tony said with a distracted smile. He waited until she had left the room. “May. Are you alright?”  
She slowly shook her head. “I… my boss called. I have to be back at work next week, and I barely even remembered I had a job, because of everything. I had to get the house ready for when he comes back. I have to meet with a rehab team. And he has to rearrange his entire life. I don’t know what to do.”  
After a few moments of consideration, debating whether or not he was overstepping a boundary, Tony pulled her into a hug. “How many times can I say I’m sorry before you get completely sick of it?”  
“You’re not there yet,” she whispered.  
“Okay. Well, I’m sorry. And you’re not doing all this alone. I care about him, too, you know. Even though I’ve almost gotten him killed a few times. It’s how I show my love. Ask anyone.”  
“You’re an asshole,” May said with a teary-eyed smile.  
“Yeah, if you ask anyone they’ll say that, too. The point is, whatever either of you need, I’m there. I promise. And this is the kind of promise I don’t break.”  
May pulled him in tighter. “Thanks.”  
Tony closed his eyes and didn’t think about who was going to see in that window and what tabloid they were going to send it to, or what they could all be doing right now if he hadn’t been so selfish, hadn’t taken the suit back, had listened to someone besides himself for once in his life. He didn’t think about any of that. Instead he thought about scheduling meetings, and getting everything fixed, and not crying, which was what he really felt like doing.  
“It’ll be okay,” he said. It was almost entirely to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! I never update and then I give you this bullshit! Sorry!  
> also I haven't been right since I learned about FRIDAY/JARVIS having protocol for Tony self-harming/attempting suicide so I threw some of that in here.  
> slight tw I guess? it's mentioned super vaguely for like 2 sentences,,,, idk if it even counts but I gotta be sure.  
> anyway the last chapter was pretty happy but don't worry we're back to your regularly scheduled pain and suffering

Peter tried his best to avoid May’s questions on the drive home. He’d been interrogated enough by the rest of the student body- he didn’t need his aunt’s questions on top of it all. Most of them he dodged with a “fine” or a “nothing” or a nod. No one had told him how exhausting his first day back would be. All he wanted to do was sleep. None of the teachers were giving him any homework yet, which he had been mad about at first, but now he was just grateful.  
“Oh, by the way,” May said as they pulled into the hospital parking lot, her voice uneasy. “Tony’s probably waiting for you. I think he wants to talk.”  
“I thought you were getting a restraining order or something,” Peter replied. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Tony Stark. In fact, after today, he was considering revoking his status as Iron Man Fan #1.   
“Well, he’s helping a lot with everything. He designed your prosthetics. I know you’re mad at him- god knows I sure am- but he’s doing everything he can.”  
Peter stared out the window. He could see into the hospital lobby, where sure enough, a familiar figure wearing aviator sunglasses stood waiting. “Okay,” he mumbled.  
He’d never seen the great Mr. Stark at such a loss for words. But sitting in his hospital room, it took almost a full two minutes for either of them to speak. Eventually Peter had to start. “Why did you have to tell everyone I’m Spider Man?” he asked. It came out slightly more angry than he’d meant it to.  
“I didn’t mean to. I don’t have the best track record with interviews. Or press conferences. Or reporters. Really, I don’t know how I’ve lasted this long doing the amount of press I have to. I’m sorry.”  
“It’s just… now when I don’t go back to being him, everyone’s gonna be asking even more questions, and it’s only been a day and I’m already really sick o-”  
“Hold on, who says you’re not gonna go back? You’re gonna be fine, kid. I’ll make sure you are.”  
Peter laughs a little. “Oh yeah, because there’s nothing that screams ‘superhero’ more than a fifteen-year-old Star Wars fan with no legs.”  
“Hey. I’ve met some terrifying Star Wars fans before. And have you seen Bucky? He’s missing an arm, and that sure as hell isn’t stopping him.” Tony moved in front of Peter, blocking his wheelchair. “I’m gonna fix everything. I promise.”  
Something in Peter snapped. Everything that had built up over the past few weeks boiled over. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to build a time machine, is that it?”  
Tony’s face fell. “I didn’t mean it like that.”  
“Oh, so you’re not planning on getting me my legs back- my real ones? Or make it so no one knew who I am again, so I didn’t have to tell everyone at my school what it’s like being a superhero? It sucks. If you’re fixing everything, maybe you could make it so I never got bit by that fucking spider in the first place. That would be doing me a huge favor. Or, you know, since you’re fixing everything, maybe you could bring my family back from the dead? I’d really appreciate that.” Peter cut himself off and kept glaring at Tony, his breathing ragged.  
Tony stared at the floor. “Okay. I deserved that. I just meant…”  
“I know what you meant. I’m sorry.” The angry heat in Peter’s chest fizzled out. “I’m not that mad at you. Like, you should have listened to me, and then I wouldn’t be here, but… today hasn’t been the best day of my life.”  
“Yeah, believe me, I get it.” Tony stepped aside and went back to walking next to Peter.  
“It’d be nice if I could walk.”  
“I’m working on it.”  
“And breathe.”  
“You’ll be able to soon enough.”  
Peter shrugged as they turned into his room. “I hope so.”  
***  
Tony got back from the hospital and laid down on his living room floor. He was planning on going to bed, but the floor was a lot closer. He closed his eyes and tried to list what he had to do. He had to contact the rehab team and send them the prosthetic plans. He had to fix Peter’s suit- reinstall some of the protocol, make it more accommodating to the prosthetics, maybe add something so the kid would be able to breathe. He had to…  
Shit, he still had Peter’s suit.  
The whole reason this had happened was because he’d taken that kid’s best shot at protection, because he thought he could help. Who was he kidding? Tony wasn’t his dad. Even if he was, he’d be a pretty terrible one. Taking that suit had been one of the worse ideas he’d ever had. It was right up there with every other major decision he’d ever made.   
He had an interview the next day. He had to be ready for that. Every time he’d ever let his emotions take over, he almost got killed. Tony tried to push back the thoughts that were going to make it impossible to get up off the floor. Oh, that too. He had to actually get up, at some point. That seemed like the hardest thing on the list.  
A door slammed somewhere nearby. Pepper was back. Heeled shoes clicked against the floor, getting closer. They stopped. Something fell: probably her purse.   
“Oh my god,” she whispered.  
“What?” Tony asked, opening his eyes.  
Pepper sank into the nearest seat. “You’re alive.”  
“Am I not allowed to lay on the floor?”  
“It’s just… I thought something had happened. Has something happened?” Pepper spoke with a familiar edge of caution in her voice.  
Tony shook his head. “No.” Then, “Not yet.”  
“I’m calling Rhodey.”  
“Don’t,” Tony called, sitting up, but Pepper had already dialed the number.  
“Hi, Colonel, do you think you could…” Pepper stood up and walked back out of the room, not quite out of earshot. “Well, not yet, but I just think he’s going to do something again, you know?... yeah, but FRIDAY isn’t as perceptive as JARVIS was. Remember last time? Okay. See you soon. Thank you.” She reappeared in front of Tony and reached out a hand to help him up. “He’ll be here in a few hours. I have a conference call soon. What do you want to order for dinner?”  
“You’re not my babysitter, you know.”  
“Keep telling yourself that.” Pepper gave him a light kiss on the cheek and pulled out her phone again. “Do you want pizza?”  
“I don’t want anything.”  
“Then I’m going to order something you hate.”  
“That defeats the purpose of the ‘get Tony to eat at least once a day’ mission, doesn’t it?”  
Pepper just smiles.  
“Can I go back on the floor now?”  
“No. I’m getting pizza.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i wish i knew how to update regularly sorry guys...  
> i'll try to post a few more chapters this month, but just a heads-up that there will be no updates in noveber because i'm doing nanowrimo and rehearsals for the musical i'm in will be,,, intense. yeah that's about it here's the first good chapter in a While lol

Peter had a newfound appreciation for the wide hallways of his school and the hospital. Because he’d thought navigating those in a wheelchair had been hard. But the narrow halls of the apartment building were impossible. He let May push him, and tried not to say anything when she accidentally ran into doorways and corners. It was fine. At least he was home. That was all he’d wanted for the past four weeks. Here he was.  
Something still felt off, like all the doors in the hall and all the furniture in the apartment had been moved a few inches to the left. It was going to be months before he could walk through his door after school, or climb onto the fire escape, or run to let Ned in. It had been an entire month, and he still couldn’t get used to it all. Would he ever? Didn’t seem likely. He wondered if Mr. Stark had put the suit somewhere in his room, or something. He wished he could talk to Karen.  
“You’re probably tired,” May said suddenly. They were both in the kitchen, facing each other, and she said it more to break the silence than anything else. “I should go put these painkillers in the medicine cabinet. But you can’t reach it, can you?”  
“I can just keep them in my room. It’s fine.”  
May nodded. “Right.”  
“I’m just gonna go to bed,” Peter mumbled, carefully steering towards his bedroom. He managed to get his door open, angry at how much effort it took. A few months ago he was fighting with the Avengers. Now he was fighting with a door handle. He should have stayed home during the dance. He should have been more careful. He should have explained what was happening to someone who knew what they were doing instead of taking matters into his own hands. He should have-  
“Peter.” May was still standing in the kitchen. She looked like she couldn’t quite find her way out of the room. “I’m glad you’re back.”  
“Yeah.” Peter pushed himself into his room “Me too.”  
He’d started saying a lot of things that he didn’t know if he meant or not. The doctors asked if something hurt, and he said no, because since he’d woken up everything hurt, and he couldn’t tell if it was worse or not. Mr. Stark asked how he was doing, and he said fine, but only because any other answer would require thinking about it. And he told May he was excited to go back home, even though now that he was in the middle of his room for the first time since homecoming, he was thinking maybe this whole time he hadn’t wanted to go home so much as he’d wanted to go back.  
There was still an unfinished algebra worksheet on his desk. A half-emptied cup sat on the floor by his bed. His shoes were in the middle of the floor. Peter felt like the room was waiting for someone else. Had he really changed that much in four weeks? Or was it just in his head? He looked out the window until he couldn’t anymore. All he could think is that he shouldn’t be there. The ceiling was too short. The walls had pictures of him doing things it felt like he’d never do again. Whoever had lived in this room, he hadn’t left the warehouse.  
Well, it had been about four hours since he’d cried last, so clearly it was time to have another breakdown. He put his face in his hands and sobbed. This whole time, the only place he’d wanted to be was home. And now it felt gone. So where was he supposed to go?   
After a few minutes May was there, helping him into bed. All he could do was cry. It didn’t seem like he could do much else, lately.   
“What am I gonna do?” he said hoarsely.   
May sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through Peter’s hair. “You ask me that a lot, you know? Even when you were little. And you know what?”  
“What?”  
“You always figure out the answer before I do.” She gave him a small smile. “I’m as lost as you are, kid.”  
***  
Tony was finally allowed back in his workshop. Even though technically, it was his workshop and his house and his decision, Pepper and Rhodey somehow managed to override all three of those things for an entire week and a half. Every day of that week and a half the list of things he couldn’t do got longer. All he had done was go to meetings and interviews and watch Star Wars with Rhodey. It was hell. Well, something close to it, like the waiting room for hell, where it wasn’t actually that bad but it was getting there. Needless to say, he almost danced for joy when Pepper finally let him back downstairs. Not that he needed permission, or anything.  
He pulled up the plans for Peter’s prosthetics- newly revised after talking with the rehab team- and turned on an AC/DC album. Poured himself a cup of coffee. He hoped Pepper realized she was also letting him get back to his normal sleep schedule- or lack thereof. It was going to take a lot of all-nighters to catch up on the work he’d missed. He took a long sip of coffee and got to work on the prototype.  
His phone started ringing after an hour or so. He was planning on ignoring it- the only people who called him were Rhodey and Pepper, ‘checking in,’ which really meant they were making sure he wasn’t dead, one way or another. But after a couple rings, he looked anyway. May Parker. His stomach dropped. Something had happened, hadn’t it?   
“Hey,” he said carefully. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”  
May sounded like she’d been crying, or maybe she still was. “I don’t know who else to call. I have no idea what I’m doing.”   
“You think I do?” Tony scoffed.  
“Guess I thought that between the two of us we’d figure it out. I don’t know. He’s just… I just wish he was okay.”   
“Me, too.”   
On the other end of the line, Tony heard a kettle boil. May pushed her chair away from the table. “I was thinking I should pull him out of school.”  
“No, don’t do that.” Tony stared at the blueprint in front of him. “He needs something to do. School’s good for that.”  
“You’re probably right. God.” May lapsed into silence. “I need some help.”  
Tony stands up and starts pacing. “You’ve sure come to the wrong fucking person. Literally anyone else in history would be better at this than me. Except my dad. Or the Mansons.” He smiled bitterly. “I don’t know what to tell you.”  
May sighed. “Just… tell me he’ll be okay.”  
The words were on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t know and didn’t care if they were lies or not. All Tony had to say was yes, of course, he’s going to be fine, everything’s going to be alright, even if it probably wouldn’t be. But he couldn’t. Because he’d said that too many times, both to himself and other people, and it had always been a lie. Especially to himself. He was never fine. And Peter could end up the same way he did. God, he hadn’t even thought of that before. If that kid turned out like he had, it would be his fault. He’d done everything he could to stop that from happening, and look at how things had ended up. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten back up, that day in Siberia. They would find another genius to take his place, someone who’s better at fixing things than they were about breaking them. Someone who was less of a liability. Someone like Peter. Except then maybe he’d end up even more like Tony. He ran a hand over his face. What had he done?  
“He’ll be fine,” Tony said in quiet monotone.  
He needed a drink.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay listen this au has affected my entire life today i was talking about my OC and i was like "oh they'd be better without legs tho" my friends all think i have a vendetta against legs i have shouted "legs? wHaT aRe LeGs?" in the hallways at school basically i'm a mess and it's my own damn fault enjoy this chapter

Peter barely slept that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he opened them a few seconds later to find himself pinned under a slab of concrete, screaming for someone to hear him, pain branding his ribs and back. Then he’d wake up from the nightmare and his wrists would hurt from pushing against the nonexistent wall that he wasn’t actually stuck underneath. At least he hadn’t woken May up. He missed whatever drugs they had given him at the hospital; he’d been able to sleep while he was on those. After about four hours of tossing and turning, he gave up. It was only a few hours before he was supposed to wake up. He pulled his laptop out from under his pillow and went to YouTube. Usually when he couldn’t sleep he watched science videos until he fell asleep. But the first thing he saw on the site was himself. A news clip of a high school kid found under a warehouse. Before he realized what he was doing, he was watching it. There he was, being pulled away in a stretcher. Dust collected in front of the camera. There was a lot of blood. He couldn’t close the window. He couldn’t do much of anything except sit there and feel numb. Which was a nice change from feeling scared and depressed all the time. Another video started loading. It wasn’t him, but it was another kind of disaster. Four car pileup. He let it play. And then he let the next one play.  
May knocked on his door. “Hey, school starts in an hour. Do you need help with anything?”  
Peter rubbed his eyes and checked the time. 6:30. He couldn’t believe he’d spent over five hours watching those videos. But he felt… he couldn’t say better. Just less bad. He closed his laptop. “I’m fine,” he called, reaching for his shirt. For once it didn’t feel like such an outrageous lie.  
***  
This was the first (and only, Tony hoped) time that he actually wished Pepper and Rhodey hadn’t gone back to their lives so early. Because he was sick of it. He was sick of the guilt that ate away at him like palladium, and the sleepless nights that followed him around since New York, and being so goddamn sad all the time. What did he have to be sad about? There was no reason for any of it. He had all the supplies to be the happiest guy on the planet, yet here he was. Malfunctioning.   
He missed Jarvis. And Banner. And the old Tony Stark; the one who didn’t give a shit. Caring took way more pain than it was worth. He finished another glass of whiskey and stared, numb, at the iron man suits in front of him.  
“If you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t have it,” he whispered to the otherwise empty room. If he hadn’t said that, Peter would have made it out of that warehouse. If he didn’t believe that, maybe he would be able to forget about Siberia, about Rogers’ shield slamming into his chest like he knew it would kill him, and knew neither of them would care if it did. That’s all he wanted to do anymore; forget. Fix everything he’d fucked up, then forget it had ever happened. Go back to the guy people still assumed he was.   
Tony stood up and crossed the room, towards the line of suits, picking a hammer up off a table on his way. He’d spent ages making the outside of them bulletproof. Nothing was destroying them that way. But once they were disassembled, it only took a few blows to ruin them. He smiled grimly and got to work.  
Mindless destruction felt good, emphasis on the mindless part. Anything that could be done without thinking should, Tony thought, as wires and metal sparked under the hammer. That was his problem: he was always thinking. Everyone else could shut it down when they wanted.   
He picked up all the wreckage he could carry and walked up the stairs. Luckily, Pepper wasn’t home, so there was no chance of her walking in on him like this. He didn’t know what she’d do. Probably leave him again. Not even she could put up with the amount of bullshit he’d been doing lately. He sure couldn’t.   
Tony opened the nearest window and threw the pieces out. For a second he thought about following them, but then he remembered that he had three weeks until Peter got his legs. So he could wait that long.  
He walked back down the stairs and got started on building another suit.

**Author's Note:**

> friendly reminder to give the dude who fueled my fire to create this a follow! they're polaroidcrow on Instagram and Tumblr. and while you're at it I'm awalkingthesaurus on the same platforms. This has been shameless promotions.


End file.
